13 Best Women's Chemises & Negligees

Bestselling Women's Chemises & Negligees in 2023

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Journey to the Lingerie Drawer

You know what depression is, right? You know, commercials advertising the medication where the people are all gloomy and unhappy. Then all of the sudden there is music playing and everyone is smiling and happy. Is that how it really works?

I had dreams and aspirations. I wanted to do many things in my life and career. Falling in love and getting married wasn't even an idea for me until it happened. All of the sudden there was this man in my life, and I couldn't imagine being without him. We didn't date long at all before we decided to get married. Once we were married it just hit me. I wanted his child. I wanted to be a family. It was all I could think about, charting my cycles, tracking my fertility, crushed every month when I didn't become pregnant. Then, I eventually got pregnant. I was beaming when I told him. I know he was relieved.

When I had my first child I was so excited to be a new mother. We had been trying to conceive for almost a year. I don't think there was a happier time ever in my life. Depression was nowhere on my mind. It started with small things shortly after he was born. I noticed all the changes to my body having a baby brought- The twenty pound weight gain, the stretch marks that now scarred me; the thinning of my long hair, and the look of exhaustion that I now carried didn't help. I kept saying that it was all worth it to have my new son. I wasn't even comfortable being naked with my husband anymore. All of my cute lingerie and panties went into a bottom drawer replaced by plain cotton underwear. If it had satin or lace, I didn't even want to see it. All my clothes were now replaced with men's oversized t-shirts, elastic waistband shorts and sweatpants. When ever I left home my thin hair ended up just pulled back in a ponytail and I adopted a new look. I was now officially frumpy. It didn't matter how I looked anyway, I felt even worse inside. Of course, I never told anyone that.

After I left my career to become a stay at home mother before my son's first birthday, we decided to have another child. I got pregnant almost immediately. I was excited again at the thought of our family growing. When I had the ultrasound and the doctor said it was going to be a boy, I was crushed. I know that is very selfish and ungrateful but it's the truth. I cried because I knew that we would have another child and I would have to go through it all again. We really yearned for a daughter. When our second son finally joined us, all thoughts for another child went out the window.

He was a colicky baby. Goodness he cried ALL the time. I was miserable. I had gained more weight, lost more hair, gotten even less sleep than before. The few months after his birth are such a blur. I finally got a job so that I could put him in daycare and get a break. I worked in the same daycare he went to so I could always be close and keep an eye on him, but get away. That only lasted a few months. In the exhaustion of it all, I became pregnant again. I didn't even think that was possible when you are nursing. I even took the low dose birth control that is safe when you breastfeed. That's when it got worse.

My husband is in the Army. Some people don't realize that most of the time when you have a spouse in the Army you have to learn to be very independent. They are gone from home often training or on deployments. I could handle my two young sons by myself, but what was I going to do with a third child? I felt irresponsible and out of control, I was already overwhelmed. About mid-way through my third pregnancy I went to the doctor and found out I was carrying a girl. A daughter at last! I was beaming! I adored my sons, but now I was also getting a girl. That brought a little bit of happiness. In my last trimester we moved from overseas back to the US. All of the sudden, I was without the few friends I had made in Germany. I was huge with child and exhausted all of the time. Money was tight so I didn't get out and do much. I ended up miserable. I was upset because I couldn't work and didn't enjoy staying home anymore. I was selfish and unhappy and often took it out on my husband when he was home. It was easier to be hateful than to talk about how I was feeling, about what I was going through. Our marriage had even become strained. Then it happened.

My daughter was born. The nurse caught something later that evening, an irregular heart beat. All of the sudden I was swarmed with doctors and machines and they were doing tests on her. They told me some long medical name and talked about her condition and precautions. I was crushed. When they left me alone I sat and cried. She was so beautiful, like a small angel in my arms. I just knew it was punishment from God for not wanting this baby. It was punishment for not appreciating what was given to me. When we brought her home we watched her like a hawk, we tried to keep her comfortable with the monitors and wires everywhere. I didn't take my children for granted anymore. I loved them and appreciated them. I let their smiles light my days, even if I was feeling it was dark. Her father was gone a lot when she was a baby, training, then off to a school in another state for a few months. When we were able to be together again as a family, we made the most of it. She was about six months old when I got pregnant a fourth time.

Even though I wasn't the most excited, I took a different outlook to the new baby. It was going to be a blessing to have another child. We had decided that he would be our last though. Four children, more that I thought we would ever have. For the most part my pregnancy went well. My husband had a vasectomy when I was in my fourth month. That lifted weight off of my shoulders. I knew this would be my last pregnancy. I had really gotten huge. By now I was 75 pounds over my original weight, my hair had thinned out to a fine mess, and my stretch marks were inches long and wide. When the baby didn't come on my due date, or even two weeks later I had to be induced for delivery. It was the worst labor and birth I had. Previously, the other children came naturally and I felt like a failure asking for anything for pain. I cried as I had him, telling my husband he was the last, no more babies, and I didn't know if I had the strength to push him out. He stood by my side, holding my hand, giving me the strength that I so badly needed. Our new son was gigantic, almost ten pounds, unable to fit in newborn diapers. I was relieved when it was over.

He was a chubby happy baby, nursing almost non-stop. He didn't cry a lot and was healthy. I was on my own for the first month; my husband had left for training the day after I got out of the hospital. I had started taking some college classes when I could, going a few nights a week and getting a little time for myself. Shortly after his birth his sister was given a clean bill of health. The doctors said that her heartbeat had corrected itself. Things were falling into place. We were on assignment again to move back overseas- just where we wanted to go. We were looking forward to the move, hoping to make the best of it all. That is the same time that troops started going to Iraq and we felt the stress as an Army family. I guess the stress is what distracted me from the way I was feeling. Having seen the doctor before moving and getting a physical, I got a call I wasn't ready for. I was pregnant, again.

I was on the kitchen floor crying. Not again, not now, I just couldn't do it. He was going to be going off to war and I was going to be in another country giving birth to another child, alone. He handled it better then I did. The explanation the doctor gave him was that something had grown back together and they could do exploratory surgery and perform another vasectomy. I don't think I slept for months. We didn't tell our families about the pregnancy right away because they were already sad that we were leaving and he would be getting deployed. We told them right before he left for Iraq. He left in April and I was due in July. We weren't even unpacked from our recent move all the way when he left.

It was hard. We knew already that he wouldn't be able to come home for the birth. I looked forward to his letters and occasional calls, but I was not looking forward to having another baby. The baby wouldn't come on her due date or after. I was going to have to be induced again. I packed my things, drove thirty minutes down the road to the hospital, and went to give birth. I told the doctor that I wasn't new at this, but I was going to be going it alone. They were very kind and took good care of me. I did real good and stayed strong until she was born. Another girl. Once she was born and I held her I started crying. My husband had always been by my side, giving me strength. When I was pregnant I fell in love with the babies because I carried them, I could feel their movements. I always watched him fall in love with the babies when they were born, when he could see them and hold them in his arms. But I didn't get to see that this time. He wasn't there. I really was alone, and felt every bit of it. He was able to call the next morning and I could hear the hurt in is voice that he couldn't be with me.

I didn't feel like doing anything. I watched the news constantly, waiting to hear from my husband whenever he could call. I didn't care how much weight I gained, how thin my hair was, I didn't care about anything but my children. I took care of them, spent a little time playing with them, and sat up all night every night unable to sleep. I had five children, all five years old and under, and I was depressed. It seemed like it would never end. Days and weeks turned into blurs. I just did what I had to do to get through each day. Some days I did nothing at all.

Our youngest child turned one the week before her father came home from Iraq. It was good to be together as a family. When he came home he helped me more than he ever had before. I think he knew something wasn't right with me. He finally asked me to go to counseling. I refused. It took a full out argument between us and him being brutally honest before I admitted that I wasn't ok and got help. So I was off... to the shrink.

I went in the doctor's office and there is a doctor, a man I have to talk to. I bet he has never given birth or had post partum depression. I bet he didn't lose his hair and gain weight with each pregnancy. He didn't have to watch his children grow, feeling guilty to enjoy it because his spouse can't be there most of the time. He just wanted to know if I was unhappy. Then he wanted to know why I was unhappy. I visited him once a week for months. He wanted to put me on medication, but I refused. I see too many women walk around zoned out, just opposite of the happy commercials, over medicated. One day when I left, I didn't bother to stop and make another appointment on my way out. I knew what had to be done. I had lost control over my life, and I had to take it back.

It started small, as most everything does. I started exercising again and watching what I ate. I became more aware of the choices I made on a daily basis. I made sure to eat more whole grains, fruits and vegetables. I paid closer attention to what I was feeding my family as well as myself. I walked places with the children instead of driving. I got up just an hour earlier to give myself some time alone that I deserved. I often spent this time doing exercise and meditating. I did more fun things during the days with the children, not worrying about the messes we were making or what else I needed to be doing. I was just enjoying them and the smiles it gave them. I enrolled in college courses again, online this time so I could work on them from home. I started volunteering at my son's kindergarten when I could. I started getting out and making new friends, talking to my neighbors, spending more time at the park where I could socialize and play with the children. I spent more time appreciating all of the things I have, including my five beautiful healthy children.

Eventually, I fixed my hair, threw out my men's oversized t-shirts and bought clothes that actually fit. I was surprised to find out that I wasn't as large as I thought I had become. I could be beautiful at my size, which was slowly shrinking due to my new lifestyle. After almost a year of taking better care of myself and of my family, I got brave. I was brave enough to dig deep in that bottom drawer and pull out some lingerie. I thanked my husband for helping me to help myself. I felt good, finally.